


When The World Was Ending

by whispering_angels



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Humor, Love, Love Confessions, Love/Hate, Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Star-crossed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:47:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24019993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whispering_angels/pseuds/whispering_angels
Summary: After their unfortunate encounter at the Hogwarts Express, they were just supposed to be jinxing each other. Not kissing.Before Draco Malfoy had Astoria Greengrass, and before Hermione Granger had Ron Weasley, they had each other.
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Events take place between Half-Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows, and there might be some major deviations from the original story line (I try to be faithful as much as possible, though).
> 
> Sorry it's short, but it's just a prologue, after all! Succeeding chapters will definitely be longer. Leave your thoughts about the premise and feedback about the prologue (e.g. writing style, points to improve on, etc.), thanks!

“Stay,” he whispered.

It sounded like a plea.

To her, it was a request. To him, it was more. It was a desperate attempt to have a moment with her and her alone, and avoid the company of his own thoughts.

“I want to, but I can’t,” she argued, her eyes darting towards the door. “They’ll be looking for me any second now. I told them I was just going to talk to Professor Vector.” 

He grumbled, but he didn’t say a word. It was one of the few times he asked for her presence. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, and he had allowed her to see it.

When he stayed silent, she dropped his hand and walked towards the door. She twisted the handle—

“Please,” he croaked amidst the dead air.

She sighed in defeat and slowly made her way to him. She couldn’t resist him, even if she tried. Most especially not in his current state.

The turn of events had been such a whirl. Her feelings about it remained conflicting—whatever he's not yet telling, she knows she'll be mad about once she finds out. But for now, she hugged him tightly, as if trying to help him hold the broken pieces inside of him together. 

Her back was against his chest, and she heard his steady breathing and smelled the perfume he had always worn. Then he placed his head on her shoulders, inhaling the scent of the shampoo she religiously used. She took his hands and played with his fingers.

They sat there in silence, holding each other for as long as they can, as long as they remember. In reality, what seemed like an eternity was just a couple of minutes.

They heard a high-pitched voice approaching them. Someone was coming.

“Shit,” he cursed.

Now, she really had to go. Unclasping her hands from his, she quickly got up and smoothed her school robes. She promised him she would visit him later after supper.

He nodded. The calmness was short-lived, but it was better than nothing.

She kissed his cheek and hurriedly opened the door, giving him one last look before heading outside, afraid that the person to whom the voice they heard belonged to would catch them together. She rushed to the Great Hall to have dinner; her friends must have been looking for her already.

When she looked at him, he gave her a sad, split-second smile. Anyone could tell by the light in his eyes—or the lack thereof—that he was in pain. It was small and barely noticeable, a fast curve of the lips that was gone in a flash, but it was a smile all the same and it was all that he could muster at the moment.

He sighed loudly once she had left.

Before Draco had Astoria and Hermione had Ron, they had each other.


	2. The Game Is On

“If it isn’t the stench of the filthy little Mudblood again,” Draco Lucius Malfoy, the boy with the platinum-blond hair, son of the infamous blood purists Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, snarled at his curly-haired enemy.

Hermione Jean Granger, the brightest witch of her age.

Honestly, he couldn’t care less about her. He didn’t think a girl of her _nature_ was worth talking to, or even thinking of, at all. But she was friends with his main enemy, Harry Potter, and she had punched him square in the face a few years ago—that definitely merited her the enemy label as well.

They were at Diagon Alley. Hermione had just stepped out of her preferred apothecary, The Apothecary, carrying the wolfsbane, infusion of wormwood, and horklump juice she needed for Potions. They were out of stock when she, Harry, and Ron first visited the shop a few days ago, and now that the first day of school was nearing, she requested Mr. Weasley if she could go and buy them. Mr. Weasley agreed but on the condition that she be accompanied by his wife. It was becoming increasingly dangerous to wander alone now that the Dark Lord was becoming more powerful as ever. Mrs. Weasley was happy to oblige.

On the other hand, Malfoy had just come from Malfoy’s Apothecary, the apothecary owned by his grandparents. He had in his hand the several items he also needed for the same class, sauntering through the streets going to who knows where, with his mother following him closely behind.

She rolled her eyes at him. Her blood began boiling. She remembered how the same thing had occurred a few days ago: Harry, Ron, and Hermione had just entered Madam Malkin’s robe shop when Malfoy called her by the slur. “Mother, if you’re wondering where the sudden unpleasant smell is coming from, just look to your left and you’ll see that a Mudblood had just walked in,” Malfoy had said to Narcissa.

Ron and Harry had drawn their wands out and pointed them at Malfoy with gritted teeth. Malfoy had also pointed his wand at them. Madam Malkin had to interject before any more ruckus ensued. “Now, now! Put those down. I don’t want foul language _and_ drawn wands anywhere in my shop.” she had told the three boys about to quarrel with a pointed look.

“It’s not worth it,” Hermione had tried to diffuse the situation but it had only fueled Malfoy’s anger.

“Not like you have the guts to perform magic here, anyway,” he had spat.

She recalled how they had scurried to follow him when they saw him walking alone, only to end up at the side of the town jam-packed with Dark Artifacts—Knockturn Alley. They had heard him animatedly talking to Borgin at Borgin and Burkes, asking for something to be repaired and reserved. Malfoy had left with an evil grin plastered on his face while Borgin had looked frightened and threatened. Hermione didn’t know what took over her back then, but she had entered the store and tried to sweet-talk the owner into telling her about what Malfoy was interested in keeping, in which she massively failed.

“Out!” Borgin’s face had become twisted with rage.

She went back to the current situation.

“What do you want?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

“Want from you? Certainly nothing. Just thought Miss Granger without her best buddies is…surprising? And curious.” He placed his hands on his pockets. He had smug smile on his face and his tone was condescending.

“Frankly, I don’t care what you think. Since when did you care about other people’s business?”

Malfoy laughed derisively. He didn’t care about other’s business, especially not _hers_.

“I don’t. I just happen to see you. Don’t put too much thought into it, or you’ll ruin that nasty brain of yours. Can’t have three brainless idiots sticking with each other now, can we?”

Narcissa was nearing Malfoy. She wanted to get away from him as soon as possible. _From trouble_. Two Malfoys were a bit too much in one day.

“I _will_ punch you in the face Draco Malfoy. I did it once and I certainly can do it twice. My friends and I aren’t brainless, you arrogant ass.”

Malfoy’s eyebrow arched, amused at her confidence and use of his full name. _That’s new. And unexpected_. He was about to dare her. _Do it, then_.

Unfortunately, before he could talk any further, the door from The Apothecary opened and Mrs. Weasley appeared.

“Got everything you need, dear?” Mrs. Weasley placed her hand on Hermione's shoulder with a fond look.

“Yes, thank you.” She gave a quick glance to Malfoy before turning her back to him.

“Off we go, then.”

Whether Mrs. Weasley had not noticed Malfoy or she had simply chosen to ignore him entirely, Hermione was grateful. 

_He’s sure to bring trouble, after all that he gave us these past few years, what makes this year any different? And I already have my fair share of troubles with Harry and Ron._ Any more of what she already had on her plate and she might not be able to handle it, she thought.

It was also during this moment that Malfoy’s mother had caught up to him. She placed a hand on his back.

“What were you doing, talking to that Granger girl?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to get a rise out of her.” That was true. He loved constantly irking the hell out of people. Bonus points when it’s a friend of Potter’s.

“Well, I don’t want you associating yourself with Mudbloods. Especially that one.” Narcissa’s face was contorted to a look of disgust. She was obviously displeased.

“I have no plan to.”

“Good, now let’s go home.”

* * *

Hogwarts Express was about to leave.

“Hey, come on, let’s look for a compartment,” Harry invited Ron and Hermione.

“Oh, sorry, we have to proceed to the prefects’ carriage,” Hermione looked at him apologetically. “Meeting. And also, you know, patrol the corridors.”

“Er, right…sorry, I forgot. I’ll go then.” Poor Harry was left to find an available compartment while the other students shamelessly gaped at him. It can’t be helped, he supposed, after that ordeal at the Ministry of Magic a few months ago, but that didn’t make him feel any less uncomfortable. He finally saw Neville and Luna in one of the compartments and stayed with them.

Meanwhile, Ron and Hermione had dashed their way to their carriage. They had just settled into their seats when somebody knocked. The door opened and the face of a Ravenclaw prefect popped up. The meeting was about start in ten minutes.

“Hey, Ron, you can go ahead. I’m going to the washroom first for a bit.”

“I can wait. Pretty sure we still have a couple of minutes to spare.”

Hermione insisted. “No, no, it’s better if we already have a representative.”

Ron sighed. He was more lax when it came to prefect duties so he often tried to put them on hold for as long as he could. It also felt weird for Ron that he was going to be there first when they all knew Hermione was the more responsible one. Still, Hermione was persistent, so he went ahead.

She decided to patrol the corridors on the way to the washroom. One particular compartment drew her attention. She exhaled loudly, mildly irritated at what she saw.

It was Malfoy together with some of the sixth year Slytherin students. He was also a prefect, so why was he hanging around with his friends like he wasn’t supposed to be in a meeting? Everybody was informed ahead of time. Last year, Malfoy had abused his prefect power to a great extent and even disregarded some of his duties. It was exasperating to find out that the school year hadn’t even started yet and he was already about to neglect them again.

“The _audacity_ ,” she pinched the bridge of her nose.

She knocked on the door, her head visible through the window. Malfoy was talking with Crabbe and Goyle when he made eye contact with her. He rolled his eyes. He got up and smoothed his school robes before opening the door.

“In case you’ve forgotten, we have a meeting,” Hermione said indignantly, before Malfoy could even utter a word.

He stepped out of the compartment completely and shut the door behind him. Hermione stepped back a little. They were getting a little too close for her liking. He also stepped back to put a more space between them, his back nearly hitting the door he had just shut. They were getting a little too close for his liking.

“I haven’t, but I don’t care. I have more important things to think about.” _No one’s going to care whether I did my job as a prefect or not when the year ends_. He thought about the important mission the Dark Lord has given him. Nothing was more important than that.

Hermione pursed her lips. “Do I have to drag you there?” She folded her arms in front of her and stood straight, feeling a little bolder.

He stepped forward. And forward.

And forward until her back silently hit the door behind her. “I’d like to see you try,” he sneered menacingly. _Like you would dare._

He was getting uncomfortable—his mind muddled, much to his annoyance. He wasn’t used to being in such close proximity with a muggle-born witch. With Granger. But he pushed that discomfort deep down. It was rather satisfying to see Granger even more uncomfortable.

The air was getting tense. There was no one else outside and the blinds of the compartments near them were all closed. Crabbe and Goyle were too busy to notice them. She looked at him dead in the eyes with as much fierceness as she could muster. Her nostrils were flaring. _How dare he? We haven’t even set foot on the castle._ She wouldn’t back down. She tried to push him once, but he didn’t budge. Of course that wouldn’t work. Her head was in a frenzy. Not only was he annoying her, she was also running late for the meeting. And she was never late for prefect meetings. When she had regained her senses, she pulled out her wand and attempted to jinx him.

“Flipendo!” Blue light burst from the tip of her wand, and to her surprise, it deflected.

“Protego!” Malfoy stumbled a little. He managed to deflect the jinx using a Shield Charm but he had drawn out his wand a little bit late, causing him to absorb some of the shock.

_That was new._

He hadn’t expected her to jinx him. Or at least be the one to initiate the “duel” between them. He must really have pushed her buttons.

“Shouldn't you be the one preventing mischief instead of _causing it_?” he contemplated with a smirk.

“Be there at the meeting or you will be sanctioned,” she said before leaving, ignoring his previous remark. He looked at her as she went to where the meeting was. He wasn’t going to come, of course. He thought about jinxing her back. He had just raised his wand when he heard her sigh and say something from a distance, her back still turned away from him.

“I know what you’re thinking. Protego.”

She knew, she _just knew_ when she cast that ­­­­Knockback Jinx that he was going to jinx her back. It was Malfoy. He loved causing trouble or being in one. It was like she had set off an alarm in his head. She knew this wouldn’t be the last time, but little did she know that this was just the tip of the iceberg.

 _Stupid!_ _Didn’t I just tell myself I’ve already had enough trouble with Ron and Harry? Why—WHY—in the name of Merlin’s beard, am I taking on another one?!_ It was incredibly stupid but she wasn’t going to let him have his way that easily. There was no turning back now.

She went to where the meeting was, all thoughts of the washroom forgotten.

When she arrived, everybody was already there. Everybody except two from Slytherin: Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson.

“Sorry! Sorry, I’m late!” She rushed to her seat, panting and red as a tomato, with her head bowed down as she apologized profusely.

Ron looked at her in disbelief. “What happened?”

“I just bumped into some minor inconvenience,” Hermione replied. It wasn’t the whole truth but it wasn’t also exactly a lie. She didn’t have the energy to explain right now. Ron didn’t believe her and was becoming increasingly curious, but judging from the disheveled look on her face, he decided it was best to drop the subject at the moment.

The meeting was over after an hour. They discussed different matters—from Halloween preparations to disciplinary actions to protecting the students. Hermione was tired.

“He really didn’t come, huh? Even Pansy?” she muttered to herself.

Ron’s ears perked up. “What do you mean by that?”

“What?”

“What you just said—what do you mean by that? Did you see Malfoy and Pansy before the meeting?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I saw Malfoy at one of the compartments with his friends. Reminded him about the meeting and said he’d be sanctioned if he didn’t come.”

 _He was the minor inconvenience_ , she added, but only to herself.

* * *

When Draco went back to the compartment, Crabbe and Goyle were still talking.

“What took you so long?” Crabbe asked.

“Nothing. Prefect things. Not your business,” he replied curtly. He was not in the mood to talk about it.

When he had heard Hermione cast the Shield Charm, he was surprised for the second time in under a minute. Both times because of her. He didn’t think it was possible for _her_ to catch him off-guard so often, but he was rather good at masking his emotions.

His mother’s word rang back in his ears. _Don’t associate with her_. Right. And he had said back then that he didn’t plan to. But they had just attempted to jinx each other, and there was like a silent understanding between them that this was going to become a standard thing. _Nothing good will come out of associating yourself with muggle-born witches and wizards, especially not with the one you had just insulted. But since when did he care about goodness?_

Minutes later, Pansy Parkinson entered. Whatever was going on between her and Draco, whatever they had—he really didn’t know. They never “defined” the “relationship”. To him, it was just a casual thing. Whether this was a commitment or a fling, it didn't matter to him. It was the nearest he had to a significant other. He wasn’t the sort of person to be in a relationship. And in his current situation—his family’s situation—he thought there were far more pressing things that needed attention than his love life.

Pansy sat beside him and patted her lap, motioning for his head to lay on it. He did. She started stroking his hair and he didn’t say anything. He rather liked it—both the action and the attention.

It had been over an hour when someone opened the door. It was her again. Granger. She rolled her eyes when she saw the sight in front of her.

“Ever heard of knocking?” Pansy glared.

“Me not knocking should really be the least of your concerns, Pansy, when you and Malfoy have detention this weekend for not attending the meeting,” Hermione said firmly.

“The entire council agreed,” Ron added before any of them could protest. He also wanted to have a say and not stand there like some dumb audience. “Obviously everybody except the ones from Slytherin.”

Pansy scowled. “Goody two shoes.”

Malfoy snickered. He sat up and raised his middle finger at them. “Fuck you,” he mouthed.

Ron raised his middle finger too. Hermione swatted his hand. She closed the door—quite loudly at that.

He returned to his previous position. _She’s just a minor inconvenience. Just an inconvenience._

The game was on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Share your thoughts about the chapter, thanks!


	3. Mischief Not Managed

When Hermione yelled, “Flipendo!” all she wanted was a ticket out of the situation.

Not a one way ticket to hell.

It was time for Potions class under Professor Horace Slughorn. When she entered the room, the sight that greeted her was the worst she could've expected: Malfoy grinning mischievously in front of her.

She couldn't believe her luck. Twelve people—only twelve people managed scrape their way into the N.E.W.T. Level of Potions, or at least chose to continue into it—and yet Malfoy just _had_ to be one of them.

It was incredibly easy for her to get that 'Outstanding' in her O.W.L. exam, but she's surprised that Malfoy also got the same result. If he had received 'Exceeding Expectations' like Harry and Ron, then he would've had incomplete materials with him, too. But seeing that he had everything needed, she concluded he got the same as hers.

As for Malfoy, he had been pleased with his scores, but it hadn't shocked him one bit. He may be an arrogant bully, but he was also extremely talented in Potions. He hadn't even bothered checking his O.W.L. results before buying ingredients. He had been _that_ confident. Maybe he should've thanked Professor Snape for some of that confidence. His extra lessons after formal class had definitely played a part in boosting his knowledge.

“Hello, Granger,” Malfoy's voice was sickly sweet.

“Hello,” she paused. She didn't want to say his name. She wanted to puke. “Malfoy.” She grimaced. It was like it took all her might to say that one word.

She proceeded to her seat. Her friends looked incredulous.

“Was I dreaming or did you just say hello to Malfoy?” Ron was astounded, to say the least.

“Maybe you should have your eyes checked. Or if _maybe_ didn't spend so much time daydreaming in class then you would notice the difference between a dream and reality,” Hermione bit back, her snappy attitude coming to life once more.

“Geez, pipe down, Hermione. It's called sarcasm,” Ron scowled.

“Are you friends with him?” Harry asked, treading the apparently sensitive topic more cautiously than Ron had.

“ _Friends_?” Hermione scoffed. “Hardly,”

At that moment, Professor Slughorn entered the room and exchanged formalities with the class. He started talking about the lesson right away. He held up a familiar looking vial and she guessed what it was immediately.

“Anyone who can tell me—yes, Miss...?” Professor Slughorn inquired.

Hermione had shot her hand up in the air before anyone could, and before the professor could even finish his question.

“Granger, Professor. Hermione Granger. And it's Amortentia, Professor.”

“Good, good! Five points to Gryffindor.”

Hermione smiled, pleased that she was able to answer.

“And does anyone know what it does—yes, Miss Granger?” He was entertained that a student seemed to have been doing lots of advance reading over the summer vacation.

“It's an incredibly powerful love potion,” she began. “Actually, the most powerful one. It’s supposed to smell differently for everyone depending on what attracts us. I smell leaves and parchment and...” she stopped slowly, her voice turning inaudible. She turned red at the realization she may have just revealed too much information about her.

Professor Slughorn didn’t seem to notice Hermione’s discomfort.

“Correct again! Twenty points to Gryffindor!”

Hermione heard a small snigger behind her—whoever that person was, obviously they noticed she had said too much too. She turned around and sent a deathly glare at owner of the voice—Malfoy.

“Whatever,” she mouthed.

Malfoy mimicked her.

Professor Slughorn had his back turned away from the students, writing instructions on today's experiment. Hermione was diligently copying every word when she felt a small tinge of pain in the left side of her stomach. She winced at the sudden sensation, causing her to bump to Ron who was on her right side.

“You okay?” Ron asked, but he didn’t seem overly concerned.

“Yeah, just… Just a small pain. Nothing to worry about.” She rubbed the part where she felt the impact. She didn’t pay any attention to it. _Maybe if she chose not to notice, he’d stop._

She started jotting down the procedure again when she heard a murmur from the back.

“Rictusempra!”

_The Tickling Charm._

Suddenly, a tingling sensation shot in her left side again, but this time it was more prominent. There was a laughter bubbling inside of her that she was _really_ struggling to contain. She made a tiny laugh. And then she laughed a bit more—a bit louder this time. And then she bumped again into Ron who was now looking slightly alarmed.

“Seriously, Hermione…are you sure you’re okay…?”

“Y-yeah!” She said, her left hand in her mouth. She had to calm herself down before Professor Slughorn turned around. She waved right hand frantically in front of her. “Don’t mind me!”

She concentrated all of her energy intro breathing steadily, giving the left side of her stomach a soothing rub. She breathed deeply once, and then twice. Once she had finally calmed down, she whipped around to Malfoy only to find him containing a laughter of his own.

Oh she isn’t going to let him get away with this.

Clearly, telling Professor Slughorn, or anybody, for that matter, is out of the question: nobody would believe her if she told them Malfoy had just cast a spell on her during class hours. Or maybe they would but do nothing about it—after all, Malfoy is a notorious troublemaker who you wouldn’t want to cross paths with. There’s nothing left but to take matters into her own hands.

She discreetly aimed her wand at his legs. They were at the far left of the classroom, and everyone’s eyes were glued on the board—well maybe except for Ron’s who was busy tapping his fingers on the table—so no one’s going to notice if she whispers a jinx on one blonde guy.

Right on cue, Professor Slughorn announced, “All right everybody, proceed to your stations!”

“Locomotor Wibbly!” she said softly—enough for the spell to take effect but not enough for anybody to notice, especially when her voice was drowned by a booming one.

The effect was immediate: Malfoy fell to the ground just as quickly as he had stood. That Jelly-Jinx Legs worked just in time.

The sound of a chair falling and Malfoy’s high-pitched yelp caught everyone’s attention. Eleven students were now looking at him sprawled humiliatingly on the floor—Hermione, who was suppressing a sneer, was the only one who didn’t look at him. It would’ve been satisfying to see him lying helplessly, but she knew that one look at his reaction and she wouldn’t be able to control her laughter at the hilarity of it all. He scrambled to stand up and pretended that nothing happened.

“Everything fine, Mr…?”

Hermione froze. She forgot the part where Malfoy could turn her in or not. Will anybody believe him, though? The bright and good kid in class jinxed someone? She was spared from overthinking any longer when Malfoy spoke.

“Yes, Professor. _Somebody_ was just messing with me.”

Professor Slughorn assumed from his reply that he was just playing with his fellow Slytherin students and decided not to mind him.

Now that they were on their stations—Hermione and Malfoy were unluckily stationed near each other with only person separating them, and the poor person between being Ron—the professor spoke once more.

“Today’s potion is the Draught of Living Death, and you have a little over an hour to make it. The one who’d able to produce it as successfully as possible will have this little bottle over here,” Professor Slughorn shook the tiny bottle in his hand and continued, “This, right here, is Felix Felicis—and yes Miss Granger, you have every right to gasp, because a few ingested drops of this golden liquid is sure to make you lucky in your endeavors for a day!”

All heads were now focused on the said prize, even Malfoy who had been thinking of a counterattack to Hermione: everybody was determined to get it.

Halfway through the process, though, Hermione was visibly distressed: the potion was still a deep shade of purple when, according to the book, it should’ve been light pink already. The same went for Malfoy—beads of sweat were forming on his forehead. The fact that they had managed not to banter for thirty minutes showed how much they wanted to obtain the Felix Felicis.

Hermione glanced to her right and peered over Harry’s cauldron. “How are you doing _that_? I can’t seem to get it!”

“Maybe your cauldron hates you,” Malfoy mocked simply.

“Oh back off,” Hermione took a quick look at Malfoy’s potion which was an even deeper shade of purple. “Maybe _your_ cauldron hates you.”

“Well?” Hermione put her right hand on her hip as she turned to Harry.

“Add a clockwise stir—”

“No, no! It said always do counterclockwise!” She pointed to a line in her book exasperatedly.

Harry shrugged and continued what he was doing—adding a clockwise stir every after seven counterclockwise ones.

Ron who had been working silently up until now, save for muttering some curses under his breath for his brown disaster of a potion, had the nerve to break the awkward silence amid the brooding tension.

“Didn’t know you guys are on speaking terms with each other.” Ron said nonchalantly. He squinted at his book, trying to make sure he had followed every step word for word.

“Shut up.”

To Harry and Ron’s surprise, Hermione and Malfoy had said these words at the same time. For once, the two had agreed on something. And it was about Ron shutting up. Harry and Ron looked positively disconcerted.

Not long after, Professor Slughorn declared that the time was up—much to everyone’s dismay. Everyone except Harry. Harry was able to make his work as close as it could be to the actual one, thus earning him the lucky potion. Ron, Hermione, and Malfoy narrowed their eyes at him—Hermione and Malfoy more so.

When class was over, Hermione told Harry and Ron to go ahead.

“I’ll just fix a few things. I’ll catch up, don’t worry!”

“We’ll wait for you by the corridor,” Harry said before leaving with Ron.

When the two had stepped outside, Hermione directly went up to Malfoy who seemed to be taking too much time fixing his things when he hadn’t even put out that many items. Apparently, he had been pretending to do so for quite a while now by purposely putting his books and pens out, putting them in, _and then_ putting them out. He had been expecting Hermione to come up to him—or at least, he had been waiting.

“You can stop fixing that clutter of bag now,” she said while she strode towards him.

“What? Oh, sorry, I didn’t see you there,” Malfoy feigned ignorance.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“I’m not going to let you get away for those two spells you put on me a while ago.”

“Funny you say that, I was going to say the same thing. I’m not going to let _you_ get away with that Jelly-Legs Jinx either. Or more accurately, _curse_? I only used a charm you but you cursed me. Didn’t know someone had a knack for Dark Arts.”

“Please. It was only a silly incantation with no real harmful effect. I’d say it was still more of a jinx than a curse. But we’re not here to discuss technicalities, are we? I want you to know that just because I study diligently and know how to follow rules doesn’t mean I’m a pushover.”

Malfoy stared at her for a minute. His face broke into a smug grin. “I didn’t expect you to be.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow and sent him a smirk. “Good.”

She turned on her heel and began walking away, only to find her friends standing by the doorway and looking at her. She was startled.

“Oh! I thought you were going to wait for me outside?”

“We were. We figured you were only clarifying things with Professor Slughorn. But then we saw him slip out a few minutes ago already and wondered what’s taking you so long.” Harry said.

“Well, I’m finished taking care of my business. You don’t need to wonder now. Thanks for the concern, by the way!” Hermione smiled brightly.

“Does that business of yours include Malfoy?” Ron asked while they were heading to the next class.

“I—what did you say?”

“It was you, wasn’t it?” They had all come to a full stop now—Hermione and Ron were facing each other. Harry stood there silently, watching them.

“What? What do you mean it was me? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Hermione looked perplexed.

“Don’t play dumb. You’re the one who jinxed Malfoy, weren’t you? I saw you snickering. And putting your wand back in your robe pocket.” Ron wasn’t buying any of it.

Hermione chewed her lip and started walking briskly.

“Maybe…”

Harry gave a laugh of disbelief: out of the three of them, it was Hermione he had least expected to do a spell in a class that didn’t need it or at least wasn’t instructed to yet.

“Someone’s feeling brave. Or stupid. I don’t know which. All I know is I smell trouble.” Ron jogged to catch up to her.

“Yeah, well…” She smiled at Ron, then at herself. “There is a first time for everything.”

* * *

Over the week, Hermione and Malfoy jinxed and hexed each other—sometimes in the hallways, sometimes in class, sometimes under the tables in the Great Hall. As a prefect, though, someone who should be imposing discipline, Hermione had the sense to avoid doing it as much as possible. If she couldn’t avoid it, she’d do it when no one’s looking to prevent setting a bad example.

Harry and Ron knew what was happening but they knew there was no stopping her. Well, they didn’t _actually_ stop her. More like warned. They knew Hermione was careful enough to not overstep any boundaries. Besides, who were they to scold her when they themselves were mischief makers? She wasn’t exactly hurting anyone. Maybe except for that one afternoon Hermione did a Trip Jinx on Malfoy causing him to fall face first on the grass in front of First Years. Poor innocent First Years had to suffer from the wrath of an embarrassed Malfoy with a bruised ego. Their stomachs hurt from laughing back then.

On one particular Friday morning, Hermione was feeling incredibly light. Malfoy had not yet bugged her. She supposed he was busy doing something else instead of hexing her.

It was true, though, but Hermione didn’t know that. Malfoy had been continuously trying to fix the item he had talked about in Borgin and Burkes. He had begun to realize that the task given to him was getting harder by the minute. But he didn’t show it to anyone, much less show. Not even to Crabbe and Goyle.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Harry commented when he saw Hermione skipping lightly.

“It’s just a bright, beautiful morning, don’t you think?” she said.

“I think it’s a regular morning.” Ron chomped the piece of bread he was holding.

“Well don’t bring that cloud of sour mood anywhere near me,” Hermione replied.

She was happy. That is, until Charms happened.

On the chair beside her that used to be vacant was now Malfoy sitting comfortably. During their first lesson, Malfoy was not present, so she had assumed back then that he didn’t get an O.W.L. in Charms.

“Thought you didn’t pass Charms?” Hermione questioned.

“Well I’m here now, aren’t I?” Malfoy retorted, not bothering to look at her.

Malfoy would never tell it to anyone, most especially not to her, but he had approached Professor Flitwick the day after that first lesson. He had swallowed all the pride he had in his 16 years of living and asked if he could be allowed to take the N.E.W.T. Level of Charms even if it meant he needed to do extra schoolwork to catch up.

The task given to him by the Dark Lord required advance skill in magic and he knew he couldn’t do it on his own, at least not yet. Even though his Aunt Bellatrix told him not to worry at all because she was going to teach him complicated spells and even train him on Occlumency, he couldn’t rely on her alone. He needed to make most of the hard work, and he had to make a choice: lower his pride and do the extra work to learn magic so he could save his family, or fail spectacularly and allow the Dark Lord to torture—or worse, kill—him and his parents.

When Professor Flitwick said yes, Malfoy had told him—not begged, just told as he was not going to lower his pride more than necessary—not to tell anybody else. He had planned to go as far as blackmail the professor in case he didn’t agree. Luckily for him, Professor Flitwick agreed in an instant. He was a kind enough man who thought that maybe Malfoy was just ashamed about the whole agreement so he decided to spare the boy from embarrassment.

So, for this class, just this one class, he promised himself he was going to act like a good boy.

But he was next to Granger and there was no way could keep that promise.

Maybe just one jinx.

One final jinx, to get it out of his system?

“Relashio!”

Professor Flitwick’s back was turned to them so Malfoy decided to annoy his seatmate just one time. _Just one time._ The hand that held his wand was obstructed from Professor Flitwick’s view and his other hand covered his lips anyway should the professor decide to look at them.

The jinx caused Hermione to lose her grip on the quill she was holding. She had been holding it while her hand was supporting her chin. This caused the quill to create stray marks on the parchment in front of her.

She was irritated. This was one of the parchments she liked the most. And for a class she really liked! Out of pure irritation, she wasn’t able to hold back: she instantly grabbed her wand and furiously muttered an incantation.

She waved her wand. “Silencio!”

There. That ought to temporary silence him and prevent him from attacking her back.

Her eyes widened as she dawned on a realization—she had cast the spell louder than she had intended. She looked around and saw that the entire class had stopped working, and Professor Flitwick had stopped talking. He was looking at her, his wand raised mid-air.

Harry, once again, was left surprised: really, out of the three of them, it was _her_ he had least expected to perform magic in class when it wasn’t needed, and she had done it in one of her favorite classes.

“Well, well, Miss Granger! That was quite a Silencing Charm you used on Draco Malfoy! I must say you did an _excellent_ job on that wand movement and pronunciation,” he beamed at Hermione, amused at what he saw.

She thought she had already gotten away with it when he added something.

“ _However_ , I don’t recall giving you the permission to do one right now, and on a fellow student,” he said, frowning. “So while I’m awarding you five points as credit for the fine execution, I’m afraid I’ll have to deduct _fifteen_ points for that behavior.”

Hermione looked absolutely mortified. She can’t believe she had lost Gryffindor points _and_ perhaps annoyed Professor Flitwick. She hoped she could regain his favor by doubling her efforts in their future homework.

Speaking of homework, Professor Flitwick had decided to give them one.

“It was supposed be done by 3’s, given that I had already come up with groups last meeting,” the professor announced.

“However, since Mr. Malfoy here arrived just today, we’ll have to make changes.”

Ron groaned. He was pretty sure the professor have already put him, Harry, and Hermione into a group, given that they were always together, but now he had to worry about who’s going to be paired with Malfoy. If he were paired with him, his grades would surely be drastically jeopardized even more than it already was.

As if the professor heard his thoughts, Professor Flitwick looked at the three of them, “I’ve separated the others into pairs already. Would any of you three be willing to have Mr. Malfoy as their partner?”

Ron was in a state of misery.

Harry had become anxious.

Hermione felt her breath hitch and her heart stop.

Oh no. _Oh no._ She knew where this was going. There was no way Ron or Harry was going to volunteer. Ron needed someone who could pull his grades up, _not down_ , and Harry would _never_ let himself be paired with his rival.

She looked at the two—they were looking at her apologetically, _pleading._

“You guys get along, right?” Ron croaked, an awkward smile on his face.

She sighed. Fine, she’d be the sacrificial lamb.

“I can handle it, Professor.” Hermione had her hand up in the air.

“What do you mean _handle me_ , Granger?” Malfoy hissed. “There will be no _handling_. I’m perfectly capable, if you ask me.”

“Tell that to Professor Flitwick, if you can. Your O.W.L. results say otherwise.”

She’s now fighting fire with fire here.

Looks like she’d have to _triple_ her efforts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please share some feedback, thank you! :)


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